A Question of Loyalty
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Set late in season 7. Seven asks Janeway about her history with Chakotay and gets an honest answer. C/7.


A Question of Loyalty

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Star Trek: Voyager_

Copyright: CBC

/

"Captain, are you in love with Commander Chakotay?"

Captain Janeway looked up at Seven of Nine with raised eyebrows. Surprise, annoyance, and amusement chased each other across her face, with amusement finally winning. She smiled wryly and put down the book she was reading.

"As it happens, I'm not," she said. "Now why in the galaxy would you ask me that?"

Seven locked her hands behind her back, lifted her chin and took a deep breath. She had faced the Borg Queen and survived; telling the Captain a secret like this would be harder, but she could do it.

"Because … " She cleared her throat, since her mouth had gone unaccountably dry. "Because _I _am."

The living room in Janeway's quarters was usually a cozy place, with its hardcopy books and cushions and fresh flowers from Aeroponics, the lights set to a restful gold that resembled candlelight, Janeway herself wearing a T-shirt and curled up in her favorite armchair. But to Seven of Nine's anxious mind, the entire room seemed to shrink until she could barely breathe.

_Chakotay._ The thought of him gave her courage. She remembered him leaning over her shoulder in Astrometrics, the light of a dozen star systems reflected in his dark eyes, the boyish uncertainty in his voice as he asked if she'd consider going to the holodeck to see his recreation of the waterfall on Ledos. _Consider – _as if there was anything in the galaxy she'd rather do.

"He asked me on a date today," she continued, "He used that word specifically, and I accepted … but if you consider it at all inappropriate, there is still time to cancel. I am aware of the rumors among the crew concerning your relationship with him, and so I decided … " The mature and rational speech she had rehearsed to herself was coming out half strangled, with a quiver in it more like Naomi's voice than her own. " … you should be informed. I may be inexperienced on the subject of romance, but I … I do not consider it worth betraying your friendship."

She had imagined so many possible outcomes for this moment. She had pictured Janeway angry, coldly indifferent, patronizing or even hurt, but never in a million lightyears could she have predicted what her mentor did next.

She laughed.

"Seven, for God's sake, sit down," she said, patting the cushion of the ottoman that stood next to the chair. "And stop looking like I'm about to throw you in the brig."

Seven perched uncomfortably on the end of the ottoman, uncertain of a response. She felt almost … annoyed. Surely that didn't make sense? She should be relieved that Janeway considered her concerns to be such a trivial matter.

Watching the younger woman's face, Janeway must have understood what Seven was thinking even before Seven herself did, because she stopped laughing in a matter of seconds and gave her protégée a calming pat on the arm.

"Excuse me, my dear. It's not you I was laughing at, it's the situation in general. How long have you and Chakotay known each other?"

"It is approximately four years since he severed me from the Collective." Seven could, in fact, have detailed the time down to the second, but she knew enough by now to realize that would be unnecessary.

"And does he strike you as the kind of man who'd be unfaithful, or confused about his own feelings?"

"No," said Seven firmly. Chakotay was the most loyal and level-headed person she knew.

"And what about me - have you ever known me not to go after what I wanted?"

"Clarify."

"Take coffee, for example. Do I ever go without coffee when I don't have to? Do I ever accept substitutes instead of the real thing? Do I ever miss the chance to replenish the fuel reserves for our replicators, even if it involves taking a risk?"

Seven's eidetic memory supplied her with a clear answer. "You do not."

"See?" Janeway spread her hands wide. "If the Commander and I had wanted a relationship, it would have happened long ago. I'm proud of you for coming to talk to me about this, but I assure you, there's no need for you to worry."

This was so contrary to everything the Delaney twins had been whispering about in the mess hall (forgetting, as usual, the range of Borg audioprocessors) that Seven became dizzy with embarrassment. The junior officers' image of a lonely woman sacrificing love for duty had been haunting Seven for days. After nearly dying from the effects of the Borg failsafe device, she could understand all too well how someone would make that sacrifice. It appalled her to think that she might be the cause of her mentor going through the same thing.

But even in love, Seven thought ruefully, the laws of logic still applied. And logic told her that the captain's actions did not match up with the Delaneys' rumor.

Janeway had been involved with two men that Seven knew of during their journey - Michael Sullivan and Jaffen – and one she suspected, the Devore Inspector Kashyk. Jaffen had been so attached to Quarra that he'd chosen to stay despite the systemic brainwashing. Kashyk had been an enemy. As for Sullivan, Janeway had once put the entire ship at risk rather than lose the Fair Haven program.

None of that sounded like the behavior of a stickler for protocol or a penitent martyr. It just sounded like a woman looking for companionship in difficult circumstances … not unlike Seven herself.

There remained only one question demanding to be asked.

"Why not?" Seven's cheeks burned. "How could you _not _care for Commander Chakotay? He is … "

So many memories came rushing into her mind that they defied articulation.

He'd been the enemy who forced the Collective not to underestimate him, then the superior who never treated his Borg crewmember with anything less than fairness. Now he was a colleague she could always rely on, a friend she could ask about everything from childcare to medical ethics, and a man who could raise her heart rate just by walking into the room. He always got her lost on away missions, but she would rather be lost with him than on the correct course with anyone else. Like the waterfall on Ledos at sunrise, he was her unexpected discovery; like the Ventu blanket, he was her comfort.

There weren't enough words in any language assimilated by the Collective to describe what Commander Chakotay meant to her.

A warning signal from her cortical node pierced her brain – the failsafe device. She forced herself to focus on Janeway instead, and the signal faded.

"Oh my," said the older woman, "You've got it bad, don't you?"

"Captain … !"

"To answer your question, I don't know." She shrugged. "I've nothing against him – he's a dear friend and a damn good First Officer – but I could no more fall in love with him than I could with Tuvok. It just … wouldn't feel right."

She tilted her auburn head left and right until her joints creaked, rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, and smiled wryly to herself. "Thank goodness for individual tastes, eh?"

"Indeed." Seven returned the smile, feeling considerably lighter. "Am I to understand that I have your permission?"

"You don't need that. What you do have is my support, always." Janeway took the younger woman's Borg-enhanced hand between both of hers, squeezed warmly, and let go. "No matter what."

"Thank you." The familiar phrase from her social lessons felt inadequate, but from the look in her mentor's eyes, no more was needed.

"I've got about a million pieces of advice to give you," said Janeway, with a self-deprecating twinkle in her eyes, "But since I remember how much I hated that when I first started dating, we'd better skip that part, hadn't we? Just remember that I'm here if you need to talk."

"I will." Seven bowed her head in gratitude as she stood up to leave.

"Oh, and Seven?"

Evidently her mentor couldn't resist one last piece of advice after all. "Yes?"

"Enjoy yourself." Janeway picked up the book she had been reading earlier and gently turned through the pages, her smile fading as the scent of paper and pressed flowers filled the room. "These are the moments you'll want to keep."

Seven caught a glimpse of the title stamped on the spine of the leather-bound volume. _Dante, _it read, _The Divine Comedy._ An engagement gift from Mark Johnson, seven years and sixty thousand light years ago.

"I understand," said Seven. "Good night, Captain."

Janeway's murmur of "Good night, Seven" was half lost among the rustling pages.


End file.
